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  • The Dark Side of the Romantic Comedy Ch. 02

The Dark Side of the Romantic Comedy Ch. 02

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"One thousand days." Jason sat hunched in front of a coffee table in the small living room of his apartment, staring sightlessly out his front window at the coming dawn as he chewed the last bite of cereal. He slowly stood and stretched before shuffling across the living room floor, past the reclining chair where she used to read, the closet where she'd kept her clothes and entered the kitchen where she used to cook, dumping his empty bowl in the sink.

"One thousand days." He mumbled as he looked at the empty bed piled with the rumpled sheets that testified of another night of sleeping alone, of bad dreams and sleepless perseverations. He stripped off his workout clothes, showered and shaved before climbing into his usual dark conservative suit, knotting the tie savagely before turning his back on the image in the mirror to leave his lonely apartment for work.

"One thousand fucking days." He said out loud as he walked through the garage toward his car, recollecting another, far more painful walk. After leaving the church that day, he'd essentially staggered to his car, barely making it with the help of his father and Brian. The drive home was barely tolerable, his father insisting on taking the wheel, talking to him in the most soothing tone a rough mannered, grizzled man could manage, trying his best to convince Jason that the world would go on and that life would eventually be ok. His father stayed with him for a week while Jason barely came back to life, first nearly catatonic, then incoherent and finally listlessly depressed.

"One thousand days and this is still the best part of my day." He sighed, pulling into the garage of the Prairie Tower, taking the elevator absentmindedly to the 42nd floor. He made his way to his corner office, nodding at the janitorial crew-the only people on the floor at this time of the morning-before sitting behind his desk and firing up his computer. This place was a refuge for him, an out of the way, corner office in which the intellectual appeal of numbers and graphs and models could seduce and occupy his mind just enough to chase out the memories that tortured him. Memories of romantic kisses, gentle lovemaking and holding hands in the park made painful by memories of betrayal, of tearful confessions, of a gold ring pinging against a tile to rest at hem of a wedding dress.

At the insistence of friends, he had, on separate occasions, attempted to venture out onto dangerous ground; specifically, he'd had 5 dates with 5 different women. All of the dates were awkward, with forced smiles and sporadic, uncomfortable conversation and none of them were successful enough for either party to even consider a second effort, all of them ending relatively early without even a kiss on the cheek. After the fifth date, some 6 months before, Jason came to the conclusion that he wasn't ready to interact with women in general, let alone date, and he recommitted to isolation.

And so, he sat in his refuge, his office, his inviolable space that protected him from exposure to other people, from the pain and the bother of human interaction and from the danger associated with forming relationships. The one and only place where he felt comfortable, the idea of usefulness substituting for companionship.

But, at the close of every day, office hours ended and Jason had to go home, to his TV set, his computer, his books, and his empty, cold, lifeless apartment. And, he was gradually discovering that he could not sustain, indefinitely, the life of a high tech hermit and that, even for him, some minimal amount of social intercourse was necessary. So, that night, instead of going directly home, he had decided to do something different, to try going to a social function, a party that Brian had encouraged him to attend with a degree of enthusiasm that bordered on coercion.

Leaning back in his office chair, his hands folded in back of his head, Jason worried about the discomfort he'd feel later that evening and, for a moment, considered blowing it off. But, he pressed his lips together and shook his head imperceptibly as a look of determination came over his face and stood to get his car keys.

*******

The house was large, nearly a mansion, set on a street crowded with other near-mansions. There were cars everywhere, filling the driveway, parked on either sided of the street, two even parked carefully on the lawn. Jason eased his car into a small space a block or so from the house and texted his arrival to Brian as he made his way slowly through the parked cars. By the time he reached the front door, Brian had come outside to meet him, smiling broadly, nervously shifting from one foot to the other as Jason approached.

As if to keep him from turning and running away, Brian threw an arm around Jason's shoulders and quickly drew him inside. Despite its size, the house was crowded with people, milling around, laughing, watching a baseball game, playing volleyball in the back yard and eating barbecue and drinking beer.

Brian took Jason from room to room, showing him off to old friends and introducing him to new acquaintances at a frenetic pace, men greeting him with welcoming shouts and slaps on the back, women with flirtatious smiles and small talk.

To his surprise, Jason was enjoying himself and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt something akin to confidence when he interacted with the women. After an hour or so of roaming through the house and sampling the food and entertainment, Jason and Brian settled into a raucous game of pool being played in the large recreation room.

By the time Brian left to get a couple of beers, Jason was feeling comfortable enough to wander around some more, eventually making his way to a media room where he ran into Buddy Johnson, a pleasant, chubby ex-classmate who'd made a temporary home for himself next to a table stocked with potato chips and dip. Buddy gave Jason a wide smile.

"Hey, Jason. I haven't seen you for a while. How're you doing man? Want some chips? There's barbecue outside too."

"No...no, I'm good right now." Jason smiled back and then nodded to the large TV screen that was currently playing a commercial. "What are you watching?"

Buddy swallowed and then fished his tongue through his mouth before answering.

"Ah...yeah, we just finished watching the Cubbies lose...in extra innings." Buddy rolled his eyes in disgust before continuing. "But it just got changed to some movie. When it's over I think they're going to hook up an X Box for some games. I think it's almost done, so it won't be long if you want to play."

Jason nodded at Buddy's response and casually stood in back of a couch crammed with people as the movie came back on. He nodded in recognition as the movie came back on, biting his lip and starting to rub his hands together anxiously as he recognized the story.

It was end of The Graduate and he watched as Benjamin Braddock, the Dustin Hoffman character, abandon his gas less car and set out on foot to frantically make his way to the wedding. Arriving to find the doors to the church locked he eventually made his way to a glassed in wall at the back of the chapel. Jason swallowed hard twice and began breathing rapidly through his nose as he watched Braddock bang on the glass and shout "Elaine" over and over to get her attention and then turned pale as a sheet when Elaine turned in response to Braddock and, after spotting him, in a move that caused absolute chaos, abruptly left the chapel in a rush and escaped with Braddock on a bus, leaving her fiancé behind.

The informal audience, which included not only those on the couch but several couples lounging on the floor, were clearly amused by the scenes. Two of the men, who'd had rather a lot to drink, started shouting 'Elaine, Elaine' as the scene played out while others laughed and giggled. Jason, though, found himself leaning over, his hands on his knees as if he was suddenly light headed or even nauseated. One of the women, passing by to get a snack, placed a hand delicately on his back and gently asked if he was ok. He stood, embarrassed, and looked around the room at all the people who had so loved the idea of a woman leaving a man at the altar for someone who evidently offered more.

He looked to the woman, a small, olive skinned Latina with a concerned, faltering smile, shook his head and, without saying a word, bolted for the door.

*****

Brian approached Jason's apartment door with halting trepidation and stood in front of it for a minute or more before he raised his hand to knock. When nothing happened, he knocked a second time, louder and more insistent. This time there was a shuffling noise and then the door opened, revealing a tired and disheveled Jason Bright, dressed in running shorts and an old tee shirt.

"Oh...hey Brian. What...what do you want?" He asked flatly as he opened the door wider, tacitly inviting him in, before turning to move listlessly back into his living room. Brian hesitated a moment and then followed him in, speaking to Jason's back.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry to bust in on you like this, but all I get is your voice mail when I call and I wanted to talk. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way the party turned out last week, with the whole movie thing and all."

"You didn't have to come over to apologize. It's not your fault. Really, it's nobody's fault I guess."

"Yeah, that's right. But, you know I'm worried about you and wanted to make sure you're ok. And I guess I wanted to talk and get across to you that...that..."

"That what?" Jason asked tiredly as he slumped into his couch.

Brian sat on the arm of the couch with his arms folded across his chest, contemplating his sour faced friend before answering.

"That you have to move forward Jase. That you've had a tough break, but you've got to get out of this funk and live your life."

"Ah, shit Brian. That kind of advice is easy to give out, but I was fucking stabbed in the back by the person I was supposed to be able to trust most in life. It was the most painful, humiliating thing that I've ever gone through and it was all courtesy of the woman I was in love with. How the hell do you move forward from that? Do you have any idea what that feels like? Any idea at all?"

Brian held up both hands as if he was trying to stop Jason's words- and his pain- with a simple, firm gesture.

"Just...just stop Jason. Just stop right there. You're right. I've never ever had to endure anything remotely like the emotional gut punch that Penny dealt you. I get that. But, as a friend that cares about you, I'm saying that you can get over this if you choose to, but it will take some effort and some...some courage."

Jason snorted in disgust. "So, I'm some sort of a coward now because I got dumped on? Is that right?"

Brian shook his head in exasperation. "Come on man, you know that's not what I mean. I'm just saying that how your life turns out is still pretty much up to you. You can stay isolated and lonely, holed up in this apartment like some sort of character out of Great Expectations or you can at least try and get something new going."

Jason sat up, his face pinched in an expression of frustrated anger, his mouth opening and closing in an effort to respond, but no actual words were produced, and then, as if exhausted with his own emotions, flopped back into the couch.

"Shit Brian. I don't even know how to start. Can't even figure out what to do..."

Brian smirked as he pulled a folded slip of paper out of his pocket. "Well, Jase, Brian here has just the answer for you." He unfolded the paper and slapped it down onto Jason's knee. With a suspicious air, Jason picked up the paper and examined, his eyes furrowing as he read.

"Uh...Brian...this is just a list of girls..."

"A list of girls who would be happy to go out with you. Names and numbers. All sorts of info. All you have to do is make the call."

"I've already done that. It didn't' work out."

"Well, it's time to do better..."

"I don't think I can."

"I thought you might say that." Brian pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through some screens. "Here, I've been instructed to read this to you if you put up any kind of a fight. So listen up."

Brian touched a button on his cell phone, and the voice of John Bright, gravelly and forceful, filled the room.

"Jason. Nobody knows better than I do that you've been dumped on worse than a porta-potty at Woodstock with that whole marriage shit and I get why you've soured on life in general and women in particular. I do. But honestly son, it's time to grab life by the balls and start to live again. I've seen you do some amazing things and now I'm asking, or maybe insisting, that you do another amazing thing. I want you to put all that crap behind you and start having fun. Smiling Brian has this list of girls that he assures me are prime quality. Now I'm not sure Brian has more than 3 working brain cells, but I'll say this: he seems to know women. So in this thing, and this thing only, I want you to do what he says. You don't need to jump into anything serious. Play the field, have some fun, put your past where it belongs, behind you. You've got too much going for you to live in a self-imposed prison."

Jason sat on the couch, his hands folded across his chest, rocking slowly back and forward as he looked blankly at the list he'd placed on the coffee table in front of him.

"Well?" Brian asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence had passed.

"Well what?" Jason looked back to Brian, his eyes blinking as though he'd just woken up to a bright light shining in his face.

Brian let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you going to get your shit together and ask one of these girls out and try to get a life..."

Jason began nodding his head. "Yes." He interrupted flatly.

"...or will you just keep on with this slow social suicide?" Brian waited, hands on hips, while Jason looked back with a strangely amused expression as he watched Brian's aggressive, challenging attitude melt into a look of incredulous surprise.

"Wait...wait, what did you say? Did you say you'd...you'd ask out some of these girls? Is that what you said?"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Jason's voice had abruptly grown in strength and conviction. "My Dad's right. You're right. I have to get a life. I've got to move forward."

Brian's whole torso rocked back and forth in a nodding motion and he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture, his eyebrows raised in a continued look of surprise. "Well, ok then." He said.

*****

In the absence of any rational way to decide who to start with, Jason began at the top of the list.

The first woman was the roommate of one of the girls Brian was dating. She moved like a ballet dancer, tall, thin and graceful and her shiny, straight brown hair fell around her shoulders like a silk garment. She was 4 years out of college, a buyer for a local clothing store, and a tennis devotee. They went to dinner at a formal Italian restaurant and then took in a play. She was polite and upbeat, but the conversation was uncomfortable and became more painful and stilted as the evening went on. As soon as the play was over, Jason took her home without any objection on her part. He ended the evening with a dry kiss on the cheek and an apology.

Jason spent the night tossing in bed and fretting about the evening. He swore out loud through clenched teeth, arguing with himself about the uselessness of social interaction. But the next morning he grimly approached the list and called girl number two.

She was short and vivacious. A pale skinned, freckle faced red head who could make conversation with a statue. She worked in a veterinarian's office as an assistant and loved to dance and ice skate. They went to a sandwich shop and then to a dance club before capping the night with coffee at a late night diner. The evening was easy for Jason as the conversation flowed rapidly in a disjointed fashion, examining everything from the woeful condition of the space program to the relative superiority of Labrador Retrievers to the preferred style of dress for snowboarding. It seemed that they talked about everything and anything except their own personal romantic histories and, later on, Jason realized this was almost certainly an explicit instruction to her from Brian.

Over the next 2 months, he asked her out 4 more times, an evening at the ballet, a night at the movies, another night dancing and then a picnic in the park. He enjoyed being with her and she enjoyed his company, but she was a high energy girl with a busy calendar and there had been no real spark between them so he gently let the relationship fade away by calling her and texting her, but never asking her out again.

Girl number 3 was a free spirit. She was a few pounds heavy with light brown hair, worn in a ponytail, laughing brown eyes and tanned skin. She worked as a research assistant in the physics department at Northwestern but partied on the weekends and some week nights. She loved motorcycles, loud music and smoking pot. Jason took her to a rock concert. She invited him in when the date was over and, with some hesitation, he accepted. The apartment was filled with the sound of the Grateful Dead and the thick acrid-sweet smell of smoke. A roommate, tall and thin and with a joint set between her lips, waved from the kitchen where she was evidently baking brownies. Jason took a seat on the couch, declined a bowl of pot and tried to act casual until he finally excused himself and drove home.

In his apartment he quickly pulled off his clothes and put them in the wash while he took a shower, wondering vaguely if it was possible to test positive from second hand smoke.

The next day he called girl number 4.

She was something of a Marilyn Monroe clone with short, curled, platinum blonde hair, a full, voluptuous figure and blood red lipstick. She worked as a salesgirl, still lived at home, and didn't seem to have any real interests at all. Jason, who had gradually recovered his ability to interact socially, carried the conversation as they sat through a long, relatively tedious dinner. He took her home and she invited him in for a drink, making it clear that her parents were gone for the weekend. Her magnificent cleavage and full hips made the invitation very tempting, but Jason couldn't bring himself to establish any kind of relationship—sexual or otherwise- with a girl this vapid, so he declined politely and made his way home where he completed the evening with a bottle of baby oil in front of his computer.

Girls 5 through 7 were pretty, outgoing, fun but otherwise unremarkable. He enjoyed going out with them, had good conversations, enjoyed some laughter and some light intimacies. He made second, third and even fourth dates, but he never felt anything beyond a kind of pleasant satisfaction and he began to worry that the kind of relationship he'd had with Penny would elude him forever. He began to consider the possibility that he might have to find someone he would be comfortable with and perhaps simply grow to love and that falling deeply in love the way he had with Penny simply wasn't going to happen again.

But that was before girl number 8.

Gail Anne Rawson was a 28 year old graduate of the University of Illinois with a degree in marketing and a solid advertising job at one of the downtown department stores. To most observers, she was at least pretty, if not beautiful, with shoulder length, ash blond hair framing a heart shaped face, cool, slightly freckled skin and a soft, comfortable body.

She was also the one and only girl on the list that Jason, or Brian for that matter, had never met at all. Her brother worked with Brian and, after hearing about Jason, volunteered his sister up. Brian took a look at her picture, and put her on the list.

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